


What Friends Are For

by ChristineThalassinou1990



Series: Pages of Our Friendship [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Caring Brynjolf Is Life, Crying, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Male Friendship, Mercer Frey Needs A Hug, OOC Mercer, Protective Brynjolf, Sick Mercer, Sickfic, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineThalassinou1990/pseuds/ChristineThalassinou1990
Summary: An exceptionally cold winter hits Riften, rendering half of the Thieves Guild sick, especially Mercer. Brynjolf, like the great second-in-command he is, is up to deal with the situation.
Relationships: Brynjolf & Mercer Frey
Series: Pages of Our Friendship [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020616
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	What Friends Are For

Riften was seeing the coldest, most cruel winter of the decade. The river and even the lake nearby was frozen over, the temperature was below zero, not much during the day but very much so during the night. The situation got so bad in the Ragged Flagon that the Thieves Guild collectively moved into Mercer's house, Riftweald Manor, to endure the winter there. Those whom the manor couldn't accommodate were sleeping in either the Bee and Barb or Healga's bunkhouse.

Almost everyone who wasn't a Nord was down with a cold of varying severity. Delvin, Vex and the few others had mild symptoms like a running nose and some coughing, but Mercer was bedridden with a fever and a bad case of sore throat.

"How're you feeling today, sunshine?" Brynjolf asked grinning when he brought a cup of hot soup for the sick Guild master.

Mercer just groaned into his pillow; he wanted to be angry at his second-in-command for these stupid nicknames, he really did, but he just couldn't. Brynjolf was the type of person one just couldn't hate. He was kind and genuinely caring, the term 'sunshine' fitting him more than it ever could've Mercer.

"C'mon, get up and eat this at least... Mercer, you _need_ some food" the redhead continued as he sat next to the Breton.

His smile was gone, only the concern remained, and for a brief moment, Mercer had to blink to ease the stinging feeling in his eyes; sometimes he really felt like he didn't deserve Brynjolf. The redhead Nord was always there for him, even when he thought he didn't want him to and tried to chase him away. Apparently, Brynjolf knew him better than he knew himself and stayed, he always stayed.

"Not hungry..." Mercer muttered without any conviction, but he sat up when Brynjolf nudged him gently to do so.

"I know you're not hungry, moreover, I wouldn't exactly be surprised if you were a bit nauseous, but it's been almost three days you ate the last time, and you just can't do this when you're sick or you'll simply die. And I really, really don't want you to."

Mercer felt thoroughly miserable as he pulled his blanket tighter around himself against the fits of chill that tortured him almost constantly these days. For some reason, he couldn't make himself to look up at Brynjolf, and he felt the burning sting again in the corner of his eyes. He wanted to tell the Nord how much his care and friendship meant to him, how much he came to rely on him, and how much he didn't want him to die, too, but Mercer was never the man of big words so he didn't know how to phrase these thoughts so they wouldn't sound like utter sentimental bullshit.

So he just stayed silent, not having any idea how to say what he wanted to, and he couldn't get rid of the burning feeling in his eyes, either. He tried to blink it away, but it just got worse, and the next thing he knew was that his vision became blurred and he felt wetness on his cheeks. He wiped his face as quickly as he could, however, there was no way Brynjolf didn't notice his momentary weakness.

"Tears don't make you weak" Brynjolf said quietly as Mercer was struggling with said tears to keep them at bay. "They just mean you're human."

When Mercer didn't react just sat with his head hung and his tears falling, despite his best effort to hold them back, Brynjolf put aside the cup on the nightstand and moved closer to hug his friend. It was an extremely rare form of communication between them, but now it seemed a necessity. Mercer needed some emotional support, even if he couldn't or wouldn't ask for it by himself; Brynjolf had a feeling it was both. Even if Mercer could find the strength to ask for help, he wouldn't, simply because he was too embarrassed to do so.

Brynjolf more or less expected Mercer to resist, to try and hide his pain even if it was obvious, but the Breton just buried his face into his shoulder and instinctively snuggled closer to him. Brynjolf just held him with endless patience, his embrace gentle and protective like a father's; and Mercer had never felt safer in his life than now, in the arms of the redhead Nord who was so, so hard to hate.

"You mean a lot to me..." Mercer choked out when he managed to calm down, and it sounded silly and awkward, and he wanted to bite his tongue off, but Brynjolf just smiled at him, and it somehow made it all right.

"I know. As you are to me. Now eat your soup, okay? You still need some food in your belly."

Mercer still wasn't too hungry, but he obeyed so Brynjolf wouldn't nag him with it anymore.

"Satisfied?" he asked grumpily.

"Absolutely" Brynjolf nodded, checking Mercer's fever with gentle touches on his forehead and cheeks. "I'll ask Delvin to give something for this fever, though. Try to go back to sleep, okay? You really should be better in a day or two."

Mercer snuggled back into his bed, burying his head into his pillow and letting Brynjolf to tuck him in.

"Just call if you need anything. Sweet dreams, Merce."

"How many times I have to say: don't call me that..." came the sleepy murmur, but in the next moment, Mercer was fast asleep.

Brynjolf left the room with silent steps and a huge grin on his face.

**The End**


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